


Not Particularly Renowned for Faith

by smolder



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: wishlist_fic, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolder/pseuds/smolder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A wardrobe?” he repeated after the government official, feeling relatively baffled. Harry pushed up his glasses in an automatic gesture, and gave a deep sigh. “Thanks?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. C.S. Lewis owns Narnia.  
> A/N: This is a Wishlist fic from a prompt provided by nevrafire.  
> A/N2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading  
> Spoilers: Post-Series HP

Part One

 

“A wardrobe?” he repeated after the government official, feeling relatively baffled. Harry pushed up his glasses in an automatic gesture, and gave a deep sigh. “Thanks?” he tried, not really knowing how else to respond and getting no help from the people sharing the sofa on either side of him. Part of him was just baffled that this was coming to him now - Dumbledore had been dead for quite a while and he had already received items from the man's will.

 

( _And used them_ , a part of his mind reminds him but Harry does not want to think about that right now. Already has too much time each day caught up thinking about the War and how he might have done things different.)

 

Padma echoed his sigh, shaking her head as she looked down at her notes, shuffling them back into a perfect pile with precise motions. “Honestly, I don’t know either, Harry. This is all quite unusual," she admitted with a slight grin, her dark eyes flicking up and meeting his again. "I think the Ministry just sent me over to tell you because they were willing to take the gamble that, at least, you wouldn't kick me out.”

 

To his left, Harry heard Ron snicker – remembering, of course, the several other officials from the Ministry (not to mention the many press) who had been forceful sent away from the home the three jointly owned ( _which really didn't help quell the rampant press speculation about their lives_ ).

 

The lovely Ms. Patil’s eyes never strayed over to the red head though. Although she had never flat out cursed Ron for his behavior at the Yule Ball, never even yelled at him or said cross words truly, there was never altogether _pleasant_ feelings between them afterwards.

 

“Padma, you know that any of the DA are always welcome here,” Harry said reassuringly, ignoring the tension between the two. “It doesn’t matter what your job is – Merlin, Luna is a reporter and she is in and out of here constantly. I’m not even sure she has another home, actually. And I _know_ you wouldn’t come to this place, if it was going to endanger the group - DA has _always_ been important to you.” Harry, didn’t consider himself a great speaker but he thought he did pretty well since she looked distinctly pleased at his comments. (And he knew Ravenclaws weren’t the sorts to take insincere compliments.)

  

“Has anyone just tried _opening_ it yet?” Hermione, breaking her silence up until now, asked point blank – in an almost scathing tone, interrupting the nearly pleasant mood in the room. But she tended to be like that a bit these days, yo-yoing back and forth between staring blankly at a book ( _not turning a page for stretches that lasted far too long to actually be reading_ ) and making biting comments when she did speak. Ron and him weren't quite sure how to deal with it (this was _Hermione_ ) and they had their own issues that they where working through.

 

But Padma did not seem particularly phased, she switched gears easily and answered right away. “It is magically sealed and can only be undone by the inheritors it has been keyed to - _you three_. The magic is quite specific when it comes to that," her tone did not change much but Harry still got the feel from her slight body language _(she was so much different than her twin in how she expressed herself_ ) that people had found out how "specific" the magic on this wardrobe the hard way.

 

Still their was a distinct feeling of hesitance, none of them particularly wanted to go down to the Ministry; they hated leaving the house, and the safety it represented, at all these days. Harry knew he was the worst of all of them in this - had gotten so bad now that he would have to be badgered incessantly to go anywhere and then would only do so if he was wearing his Invisibility Cloak.

 

But the Wizarding Press, which had been an upsetting drizzle before the War, now threatened to drown him - and Harry feared he had lost whatever tolerance for it he had ever had for it in the past as well.

 

It was actually probably for the best that Ginny and him only made it a few days past the Battle at Hogwarts before they looked at each other and realized that their relationship wasn't going to work between - they were so different now, completely different people who wanted vastly different things. 

 

Neither of them was even particularly invested in being together anymore either. For Ginny he had been a bit of childhood the she had eventually grown out of as she found herself over the years. And for him: well, some days he fears he never really saw her for herself - instead letting her become an amalgamation in his brain; a pretty, strong, witch whose family had always represented love and comfort to him.

 

And  there were things happening immediately after that were just too so much more important then _them_ anyway - burying all the dead, the rebuilding efforts, _(trying to find an identity outside of this War; separate from fighting, death and Voldemort_ ). If they had left breaking up too much further, Harry is afraid it might have ended badly - one or the other of them might have gotten too invested and been hurt. This way, they had remained up good friends, and no one in her family was angry at him.

 

She has gone on to play Quidditch with the Hollyhead Harpies, a life in the spotlight where she has learned to walk down the street and let them lob questions at her and simply ignore the what they yell.

  

Harry has always had a problem with that.

 

Ron and Hermione did not last as a couple either and Harry feels embarrassed and how relieved he is about that. But there is something so much more comfortable when the three of them are just _the three of them_ \- and there is no greater pull in another direction. That is not to say that he doesn't have a different relationship with Hermione than he does with Ron, it would be stupid to try and insist otherwise - but none of them have a claim on the other two. (Beyond their friendship, their tried and tested bond that he would give anything for.)

 

"We'll go," he hears Ron blurt and can only turn and stare at him in blank surprise for a long moment. (Padma even looked over at him, a distant part of his brain notes as well.)

 

"Wha?" he asks stupidly, not able to get anything else out.

 

"Harry," his friend sighs, clapping a hand on his shoulder and smiling at him sadly, "this is from _Dumbledore_. You know it will just bloody eat at the three of us constantly until we actually give in and go have a look." The red head gave a self deprecating shrug. "I'm just trying to save time."

 

"Practical for once," Hermione murmured but, when he glanced to his right, her smile was fond. "Are you sure you're not coming down with something, Ron?" she teased and he harrumphed playfully.

 

And Harry felt so buoyed by the moment ( _the way they were all interacting felt so good, felt so much like it used to_ ) that he turned and smiled at Padma who was watching them. He said, "We'll be there tomorrow to open it."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

 

He regrets it by the next day and, had it been just _him_ , Harry would have stayed home ( _gone through the motions of his routine while staunchly pretending he has forgotten about the appointment - guilt gnawing at his stomach, but not enough to push him out the door_ ). But their are two others to the "Golden Trio" and, by now, they know how to prod him into getting ready enough to push through a Floo.

 

A large part of his problem with this is that - he, Harry Potter is expected. This isn't some errand that he can pull on the Invisibility Cloak and slide through crowds to accomplish. He has to sumble out of the Floo and into the Ministry and have everyone turn and stare; whispers starting right away. Many aren't even polite enough not to out and out point.

 

Harry feels his whole body tense, his stomach becomes a roiling ball within him ( _why did he eat breakfast?_ ), and he resolutely stares at a bit of blank wall - trying to pretend the other people aren't actually there ( _it doesn't actually help_ ). But gladly, Ron and Hermione are right behind him and, knowing how much it bothers him, automatically move to form a protective barrier between him and the rest of the room.

 

These things all happen swiftly, no matter how long it feels - and it is actually within the first few minutes they have arrived that he spots Padma coming towards them, neat and percise as always. "Good moring. This way," she says, giving a nod and then turning back around once the greeting was out of the way.

 

They are all rather uncomfortable as they make their way through the building; every room they pass through, people get quite, stare, than start whispering. Harry is completly stiff, Hermione is glaring at everyone her hand fingering her wand, and Ron is trying to fill the uncomfortable silence with what amounts to a running commentary of their surroundings ( _growing more random the further they go_ ). It does little good at helping the enviornment, given the fact that Padma, who is leading them, still seems very very expert at giving him the cold shoulder.

 

Finally though they arrive at what seems at first to be a confrence room, except their are no table or chairs, and in the middle is a tall wooden wardrobe.

 

"I'll leave you three alone now," Padma murmurs. "And make sure no one is looking in," she assures gesturing to viewing windows along two walls of the room he hadn't noticed. Harry feels gratitude for her thoughtfulnes, for the little things she has done, working around their quirks in this.

 

"Padma," he calls before she closes the door, "thank you"

 

"Of course, Harry," she says with another nod, just barely a smile on her lips.

 

Turning back around he sees Hermione is already expecting the wardrobe, making a wide circle around the back - and she is mouthing spells. She pockets her wand again and shrugs. "I don't sense anything unusal except the spell keying it to us."

 

"Should we all try it then?" Harry asks stepping forward not wanting this to be something all about him.

 

Instead of directly answering they simply do as he suggested, they all come go towards the large engraved door on the front of the wardrobe, and with three hands atop it, they pull it open.

 

It is...odd. Because there is no flash, no pulse of magic, no feeling of release. In fact, it is thoroughly anticlimactic because all that happens is a door opens and they are left looking at a bunch of coats, thoroughly puzzled.

 

"Why would Dumbledore leave us this?" Harry asked, back to being as baffled as he was when he had first heard the news.

 

But Ron leaned forward a bit, "Do you feel that?" he murmured quietly.

 

Hermione gave a tired sigh but Harry turned to him, noticing the serious look on his face – the crinkle between his eyes that he got when he thought deeply or was considering moves in chess.

 

"Not only feel that, smell it –," he said louder, his tone growing more excited.

 

"It’s  just the _coats_ ," Hermione cut him off. "They smell like stuffy fur," she crosses her arms and both young men just give her a look, making her frown. “I’m being a bit much aren’t I?” the question comes out almost a whisper.  “I’m sorry,” she says with genuine feeling and the crossed arms move to wrap around herself. “It’s just-“ she begins haltingly.

 

“I know,” Harry interrupts _her_ this time, not making her say it. ( _Because they all know. Know about her parents, the War, the torture, and all of the nightmares of death of their friends – and people they never met which are nearly as bad. Nightmares of a world where they lose and so many more die too. Every time they close their eyes, what ifs are there and it makes it so a good nights sleep is a very rare thing in their house.)_ And Ron nodded as well grabbing her arm in an almost rough, rather sisterly way, and pulling her into a hug. She laughed, tear clogged, and clutched the worn Weasley sweater at his chest in tight fists for a moment while Harry rubbed her back and she remembered how to breathe again.

 

"We’re a bit odd aren’t we?" she murmured after they had been that way for a while. "The way we are with each other?"

 

Ron shrugged but Harry snorted with laughter. “It’s a bit much to expect us to be anything else,” the Boy Who Lived and Died and Then Went and Lived Again said.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

 

 

Hermione wiped her eyes as she pulled away, turning again to the wardrobe. She stepped forward and eyes glancing from Ron to Harry, stuck her arm deep within it, in a sudden movement; she sucked in a breath in surprise.

 

"It's...," she began.

 

"It doesn't really have a back - does it?" Ron filled in, his eyes lighting up. 

 

"It could just be like the tents," Harry interjected, hating to be the voice of reason.

 

"Yes, it could -," Hermione murmured, biting her lip, her arm still within.

 

"You don't think so," he noted, watching her.

 

"And you want to climb in - don't you?" Ron added, a wide grin across his face.

 

Hermione blushed, "I'm being silly aren't I? They would have told us if it was something like the cabinets." 

 

"Your not," the red head shook his head right away, "-or else we both are. I wanted to stick my head in and see if there was really something there as soon as I smelled it. It's a bit like pine trees," he gave a surprised snort.

 

They both turned to Harry then. "Lets try," he sad simply - he was used to making decisions spontaneously, and this one felt good. Felt right. 

 

Already there, Hermione was first, but Ron and him climbed in right behind her. He pulled out his wand in the dark confines, "Lumos," he said....and nothing happend.

 

"Theres probably suppressors in here," Hermione, who had not even bothered taking hers out, said, "many trunks have such wards."

 

Harry simply nodded and he pocketed his wand again. They pushed forward throught the coats - it was much deeper than it seemed, he could smell the trees Ron had been talking about (and perhaps feel a breeze as well) but he supposed that was simply magic - into darkness, and was that light up ahead...

 

.....they tumbled into a large meadow, surrounded by tall trees.

 

Untangling themselves ( _somehow Harry had ended up both on top of and under both of his friends_ ) they looked up and saw a lion.

 

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, eyes wide.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Part 4

 

 

The lion tilted his head. "Now Ronald, that's not very polite," his tone was amused, his voice deep and rolling. But it was still a lion - a giant lion that just talked - and despite all of the magic he has seen, something like that is still startling to Harry.

 

"Are you an amigus, sir?" Hermione asked, her voice tentative - and Harry already knew that was wrong. Sirius had certianly never spoken in his animal form but he knew that she was just trying to label this new thing in a way that would make sense to her.

 

"I am not - although I have taken many different forms before," he said. "My name is Aslan," he inclined his head in greeting.

 

It was so odd, the sensation when he heard the Lion's name. Harry didn't feel quite so tight and tense anymore; he felt a wave of warmth and love. He felt the freedom of flying and the protection of being surrounded by his friends.

 

"Ah, and here is your welcome party now," the Lion continued and Harry saw two people approaching them in the distance, one younger girl and one older. Even from here he could see that both were dressed in old fashioned, mideveal style clothing.

 

"Aslan," the younger girl cried out utter joy in her tone when she saw him - she pulled up the skirts of her dress and dashed towards the Lion. Collided with his side, she caused him to stumble back a step with the force, hugging him tightly as he chuckled.

 

"Lucy, Lucy," he murumured, "I was trying to present you as the fist representitives of Narnia to these new people. Is this any way for royalty to act," he teased.

 

"It is you, my dear Aslan who said, 'once a Queen of Narnia, always a Queen of Narnia' - so it is entirely your fault that I have no reason to temper myself and my wild ways," she teased back, winking at the group she hadn't yet met with a giggle. "If you want elegant monarch for this little presentation of yours, you can still go with Susan - she fits the bill entitely."

 

"I don't know if I have just been complimented or insulted, dear sister," said the young woman, about their age (who actually was quite poised, despite the teasing, woody surroundings, and new people),  who had just reached them - having approached much more calmly.

 

Before Lucy could say, Aslan spoke instead. "May I present: Queen Susan the Gentle and Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia," each girl smiled and curtsied at her name. "These are Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter," he nodded to each as he said their names. "They have just entered your realm, please show them kindness."

 

"Of course, Aslan," Lucy said. "It's been ages since we've had visitors. Would you like to see the castle or the rest of the forest first? We can take a trip to other parts of Narnia on another day," she assured.

 

"Wait," Hermione said, raising her hand, "you're talking as if we will be here for a long time."

 

Susan looked conflicted. "That is because we do not know when you will return," she held up a hand to stop their sudden interjection after this statement. "Please-," she smiled gently," you see, we do not keep you here. We simply do no know when you will return because we do not know when _we_ shall either. You see, travelers, none of my siblings nor I hail from Narnia either." 

 

"You will be returned at the time you left," Aslan said with a nod. "But I must warn you now - your magic will not work here. After the White Witch was defeatd, Narnia itself changed to prevent such an occurance happening again. Now the only magic in this land is within it's creatures."

 

After all of this informaion, the three of them were all uncomfortable. Feeling unsure of themselves without thier magic and double guessing thier decision to go headlong through the wardorobe. It was Ron who gave a skechy bow and said, "I thank you for offering us your hospitality. I think we're going to need it."

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

 

 

"Susan," Aslan strode beside her as they all walked towards Cair Paravel, noticing his lowered tone she casually separated slightly from the others. "It is the younger King and yourself that I ask the most of in helping these three - their faith is badly shaken."

 

"Aslan," the Elder Queen sighed gently, letting her hand drop to his mane, taking comfort in the solidness of him. She just collected her thoughts as she continued to walk beside the stately Lion, even taking a moment to glance over to where her sister was talking excitedly to their new guests ( _pointing out different locations and waving to friends she spotted along the way_ ). And so it was with a smile upon her lips that she looked back over at him, pushing a bit of her  hair that had fallen out of the way with her free hand.

 

 

"I think they have a fitting welcoming party in Lucy," she gestured to where she had been looking previously. "And although I - and Edmund as well, I know for certain, - would have no quarrel speaking with any of them and making sure their stay in our land is pleasant, neither of us particularly _renowned_ for our faith," the twist of her lips was self deprecating. 

 

 

"Their doubts will be great; your patience and logic will be what they need. And the red headed young man, Ron - you must ask Edmund to tell his story to him," he was insistent.

 

 

Again, Susan hesitated her hand tensing for a moment in the golden mane. "Edmund does not speak of that much," she said, not exactly a whisper but in a quiet, even, tone that attempted to mask her anger. 

 

In matter of fact there was never a moment of daylight in which she had heard him talk of those things. Only on evenings after nightmares when he would knock on her door wide-eyed and biting his lip ( _they were all still so young and there was no Mother in Narnia to turn to_ ) and she would make tea from a kettle, always kept over the fire in her rooms. Then cuddled on her couch, shoulder to shoulder - dark heads leaning against each other sleepily, they would both stare at the dying flames of the hearth with warm mugs in their hands and he would whisper about jealousy, captivity in the cold, guilt, and fear. Fears from the past, fears of the White Witch coming back, fears of just not being _good_ enough - of doing something to let his siblings and Narnia down again. 

 

She always felt so helpless in those moments. Susan the Gentle she is called - how worthless was that? Why couldn't she be Susan the Wise so she would know the perfect words to say? She knew she couldn't mutter things like: ' _It is alright_ ,' because most of these things already happened - and they _hadn't_ been alright. They had been horrible. And she couldn't dismiss his fears for the future with a cavalier, " _We shall be fine_ ," because she had the same sort of worries.

 

 

So, she just made him tea, sat beside him and listened as he poured everything out in a stream until his voice was hoarse. And when Edmund was done and got up to go back to his room, she hugged him tight and whispered simply, "No matter what mistakes we make, no matter if we are King and Queen or just Pensives, you are my little brother and I am your big sister - and I love you."

 

So, it riles her a bit to hear Aslan asking so casually for him to bring, this which causes him pain up to a stranger. 

 

"The Narnian's know his past," she says with steel in her tone, "but he fought for them against the White Witch, and has been a good ruler - there would not be one who would contest that. Why do you wish for him to dredge up bad memories?"

 

 

"Susan," he said soothingly, calming her ruffled feathers, "I would not ask this if it there was no point. I wish I could tell you my reasons - but it is not my place. Just as I make this request of your brother, it is still his decision. So to, I would never tell these three's story, it is theirs to tell." 

 

She stared down into those deep eye, her trust for him warring with her protectiveness for her brother. Finally Susan gave a hard nod, looking straight ahead again, "I shall tell Edmund what you have said."

 

"That is all I ask," Aslan assured, in his deep rumble and suddenly her hand felt empty. Looking down, Susan found that he had disappeared into the forest ( _or just simply dissipated into the air - this was his land after al_ l).

 

She gave a huff of frustration - Lucy was going to be quite cross that he hadn't said goodbye.


End file.
